Having Eyes to See

Ok, I'm ready to face it - I have had a hard time approaching this blog since we moved to Seattle...

Slightly irrelevant but still hilarious old photo :)
"Buddy...is this how you see??"

     Not because nothing has happened - on the contrary, many great 'somethings' have happened! We are settling in beautifully to this city that does spring so well; enjoying the many friends that are now close at hand, and reveling in the fact that we don't have to pack in a month's time. We get to stay...I never thought I'd be so happy to say that out loud.

Much more current (less funny) photo

     The fact is I am ready to dig deep and get to know the earth beneath my feet a little more than the past 12 months' worth of nomadic living has allowed. But I've been trying to reconcile the premise of this blog with the fact that we are no longer traveling, in the traditional sense.

The passports are tucked away.

We've unpacked the boxes.

We mean to stay.

     Does that mean that I've lost my platform to tell our tales or recount life's joys? My heart tells me no. If I'm honest, every great journey I've been on has included moments of discovery that had very little to do with geography. Sure, it's easier to contemplate poverty when you're walking through a Guinean marketplace, or to ponder mortality when you're at the bedside of an end-of-life patient making the brave choice to let go. But in order to be impacted by my circumstances, I have had to be in a state of heart to receive the impact - to be affected by the world around me. To have eyes to see. 

     This past week I visited a lovely local church who's pastor preached on this very subject, using John 9 as his source: the miracle of the blind man receiving sight. A man born blind becomes the topic of debate among Jesus' disciples as they try to determine whether it was his sin or his parent's that made him blind. Jesus rejects both suggestions, stating that actually, this man was made this way to display God's glory. "While I am in the world, I am the Light of the World", He proclaims. He then proceeds to spit on the ground, turn the dirt into mud, and wipe this mud on the blind man's eyes. The man is sent to wash his eyes in the Pool of Siloam and he returns seeing. 

     If you're a literary buff, this is about as plain as allegory gets - The Light of the World gave a man SIGHT...amazing on so many levels. But my one take-away this week was that it doesn't matter where we are, if we see things in light of the Light, we can see. Ok, let me clarify - I just read that and maybe it's muddy. If I allow Christ to be the eyes thru which I see the world, then it doesn't matter if I'm in Washington or in Africa, He can use me to touch those around me. Right. Here. Plain and simple. There are needs here that are just as important as starving children. There is such a thing as poverty of the soul. There is suffering that doesn't meet your eyes when you pass it on the street. I want to see, Lord how badly I want to see.

One of our brilliant sunsets

     So I've come to the conclusion that there is more than one way to travel in life. Whether you're mobile or stationary, you are on a journey. One can choose to travel the world and another can live in the same town for 50 years. Both can grow. Both will experience change. And both can impact others and live richly. I believe that now. So my husband and I have decided to plant for a time, and see what journeys of the heart we will be taken on :)

Oh Washington, how I missed thee

What a beautiful, overcast day! Call me crazy, but lately I love the rain :) 

     I write this from one of the myriads of coffee shops here in Seattle, Washington. It's another cloudy day - I'd say it has rained one out of every three, but I don't mind. I remember sitting in a very similar coffee shop this time last year, in New Haven, Connecticut. Without any idea of the many miles yet to be laid before our fee. The many miles til home. It was an exciting time, full of promise. And now a year later, we've come full circle, back to Washington. I sit in my own neighborhood, sipping an iced mocha, looking out at the pale grey sky; this is our home.

The Emerald City just last week, Mt. Rainier gleaming in the distance

     We have spent the last few weeks settling into our new place, reacquainting ourselves with the many boxes we had left in storage. It was overwhelming to see all of the things we have lived without for the past year. And slightly odd to unwrap them, remembering how I had saved them and now not remembering why. Let's just say we did quite a bit of purging, lol.

Tackling the storage unit!

     We have also been able to reconnect with friends and family in the area - something we have been really looking forward to! From old nursing school friends to old groomsmen, aunts and second cousins, I am amazed at the amount of loved ones God has placed nearby during this time. It's about the biggest blessing I could ask for.

     Gearge Moore suggests that "A man travels the world over in search of what he needs, and returns home to find it." I'm not sure whether I agree with this entirely, but there is something poetically truthful about it. There is really no place like home. And while I know that no address on earth is permanent, it feels good to call this place home right now :)

     Anyway, instead of just talking and talking, I've decided to include a few photos from a recent adventure to the Olympic Peninsula with my dear friend Becky and a troupe of new friends. We decided to take a day trip across the Sound and hike Mt. Walker! 

Riding the Kingston ferry

The start of the trail up Mt. Walker

Onward and upward!

The higher up we got, the more engulfed in cloud we became :)

The girls at the top! 2,000 ft elevation gain in 2 miles
That's how we roll...

No view? No problem! We're on top of a mountain!

I am so thankful for this place, this time, and the many adventures to be had right in our backyard!

The Space Between

Hello my happy little blog, I'm back :)

     Patrick and I have officially been state-side for over a month, and it's honestly good to be here! I've purposely kept away from blogging these past few weeks to give myself room to just 'be' during what I knew would be a significant transition. And I'm so thankful I did. We were welcomed back by the people that make home a place of the heart rather than a place on the map. From the minute we stepped off the plane we were surrounded by loved ones. We enjoyed plugging back in to our family and friends amidst the Christmas hustle bustle...

New Christmas presents #1 and #2 -
bear hat and revived polaroid-esque camera!

A gift from my raven-haired "twin" Lauren!

Second Annual Mother-in-law Christmas Tea!

Surprise visit from my dear friend Rachel
(and a much-needed shirt)

My beautiful family

     Anyway, over the past month I have tried to process the amazing experience we left behind while crashing headlong into the culture shock I knew was coming. After all, we returned to America in the middle of the biggest commercial season of the year. I wish I could express how strange it was to walk through a pristine shopping mall after knowing the muddy, crowded alleys of a Guinean market. How novel it was to see cars driving down the road in an orderly fashion. How odd it was to see babies lugged around in carseats, not wrapped tightly to their mother's back. How startling it was to see our enormous hospital towers all aglow. I wish I could tell you that coming home felt like coming home.

     But it didn't. We were not the same as when we left, and "home" wasn't the same either. Yes, we spent four months overseas, but this truth has very little to do with Africa. We left Spokane 12 months ago with a one-way ticket to the East Coast, putting all our eggs in the travel nursing basket and trusting God to carry it. We leaned into Him and, though we had no permanent address, my husband and I learned to make a home in the space between us. We were changed simply by the act of leaving.

     So returning to Spokane was like trying on an old sweater I forgot I had - comfy, full of memories, but not meant to wear everyday. Rekindling a life there just wouldn't be right. What was can never be again, and it would be a shame to try to make it so. Let it stay beautiful in my mind's chronology of our lives, that's where it can live forever. Just like our time on the East Coast. Just like our time with Mercy Ships. Not meant to last, but to stretch our minds to embrace different ways of life and fill our hearts with love for people we wouldn't have encountered had we stayed. I think back on the patients I had in New Haven, in Baltimore, in Guinea. I think on the friends we made while back East or onboard the Ship. Though my heart is wrung by the distance, I have no regrets. I would rather remember them fondly and shed tears of loss than to never have added them to our lives.

     It's with this in mind that I look on our next steps with anticipation. In a week's time we will be planting roots in Seattle, Washington, a city we both know and love. We signed a lease for a great little loft in the Fremont neighborhood and we each begin new jobs in February. To say we're excited is a HUGE understatement! It is such a joy to be back in the Northwest, putting down roots, investing in friendships, and building community again. The possibilities seem endless :)
   

An Amateur's How-To for a Mercy Ships Farewell

     In an attempt to laugh off the fact that we're leaving this ship in less than 72 hours, I have put together a lighthearted list of what to do when you're about to leave the Africa Mercy. This is not an exhaustive list, and certainly not authoritative, but it makes me smile. And after a few rounds of goodbyes it actually seems to be pretty accurate!

     1) The night before your departure date gather an embarrassingly large group of friends and go out to dinner on the town. Helpful tips: Make sure one of you speaks the local language. And ask what entrees they still have BEFORE all 18 of you have ordered, or they will return a half hour later and say they no longer have any chicken.

     2) Stay up late that night to eat treats and play games in the mid-ships lounge! (Beware of quiet hours, as your laughter may disturb nearby family cabins after 10pm...boo)

     3) The morning of your departure have one last communal meal, preferably out on Deck 7. If you're going homemade this takes some prep work, as you have to make all of your market runs ahead of time, but it's worth it!

     4) After all the procrastination has been squeezed out of the process, you MUST pack. So open your room for public packing time! Not only will you have company for this usually stressful task, you will be able to pack lighter because your friends will free you of any items you were wavering on taking with you...the most common things back home are priceless here (i.e. face wash, tea)

     5) When its time to disembark for good, walk down the gangway one last time and say a final farewell on the dock, surrounded by your friends. Rainbows and goodbye songs are an added bonus!

Trusting Who holds the Plan

Confession: I have been trying to write this blog for nearly a month, the blog about leaving the Africa Mercy. And, Confession #2: it is still like pulling teeth to write. But it must be done...
    
     It has started; the beginning of the end of this chapter in our lives. We have one week left in West Africa. This nagging reality has begun to creep unbidden into the margins of my thoughts. I cannot change it and I cannot wish it away. If you had told me back in August that four months would go by this quickly I wouldn't have believed you. It sounded so endless back then. And as the months have passed, I have tried to be present, to linger, and to enjoy this time as much as possible.  I have bottled up each patient, every experience, and all these new friends in a little nook in my heart that didn't exist before and will now be forever changed. But there our departure date stands - like a brick wall, with the ticking of Time propelling us ever toward it. In a few short days we will be going home.
     But to what 'home'...? Certainly we have family and friends that we are excited to see - I wouldn't have you believe that I don't miss them terribly, I do! They are what I am looking forward to returning to most. And bonus, it's the holiday season :) Which means when we arrive everything will be infused with an extra dose of cheer and all those cozy feelings that make this time of year so lovely. If we had to pick a time to return this was it, right? But that still doesn't mean we are returning to a home.
     Literally, we have no place to call our own. When we left to join Mercy Ships we had just finished our contracts in Baltimore, so we packed up our apartment and drove across the country to put the rest of our belongings in storage. We also have no jobs waiting for us. As travel nurses we go contract to contract, and we have yet to sign on with our next assignment. So the idea of home has turned into this elusive thing in my mind that doesn't quite exist anymore. And if I'm honest, it makes me nervous not to have a concrete plan in place as this journey comes to a close.
     I have done a lot of talking about this with gals onboard over the past couple weeks, and last night at our weekly community meeting one of our fellow crew members even spoke on the idea of Plans. We all have them. We talk about what we're doing today, we think about what we're going to do tomorrow. Some of us even try to foresee the next ten years. The problem is that sometimes we get too caught up worrying about our plans, which not only robs us of the present, but when you boil it down, it is the opposite of trusting God. 

     In Luke chapter 12 Jesus gives this incredibly simple, yet challenging command: "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear..." (v. 22) There is no clause giving potential reasons that worry might be excusable - if I don't have a job, if I don't have a place to live. Do Not Worry. Even when you don't know the plan.

Flash back to my early twenties: 

     I had a perfect life plan all set in motion. I had the best job, lived in my favorite city, and was dating the person I thought I would marry. All seemed set for years of happiness when I did the biggest face plant of my life. Pride caught up with me and I found myself single and broken hearted (rightfully so). My plans had just been smashed to bits by yours truly. Now what??

After crying myself to sleep for a week, I had this crazy idea. 

I need to quit my job and I need to move. Now. 

     This was the scariest thought, and indeed it didn't feel like my own. It roused a series of backlash questions from the Worrier in me: "Where will you live? What about your current lease? What about your boss, what will she say? And how will you ever find another job like this??"
All of the unknowns loomed large, but the more I prayed the more it became clear that
this is what I must do. So I did. 

And in three weeks time:

I resigned and was still given a great reference by my boss, 

I found out an old college friend was moving to the area and she took my spot in the house 

(and thus my lease), 

I had a phone interview and was offered a job near my friends and family, 

and one of my dear friends offered to let me live in her spare room for next to nothing.

In short, each and every one of my worries was taken care of. 

Each and every one.

"Consider the lilies, how they grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will He clothe you?" (v. 27-28)

Flash forward to the year 2012:

I am married to the man I love, 

We have lived in cities I never thought I would see, 

We have worked in some of the most prestigious hospitals in America, 

And we have nearly completed our time onboard the Africa Mercy, an organization I have wanted to work with for over five years. The story of how we got here alone is testimony of God's provision

(Here is how The Journey Took Shape; it still blows my mind)

We have been able to touch the lives of patients we would never have encountered, and  

we have worked with some of the most amazing people, people we would never have met had I stayed where I was comfortable. I could never have foreseen all of the beautiful ways God would use me or stretch me, and none of it would have happened had my 'plans' worked out.

So even though I have been known to worry about a thing or two and I am liable to do it again at some point, I choose to trust the One who has brought me this far. Because really, if He has promised to take care of my needs and has proven to take care of them time and time again, 

won't He continue to pave the way?

November Max-Fax Stories

     As we wrap up another month here on the Africa Mercy, I am overwhelmed by all of the amazing patients who have come and gone. I wish you could be a fly (or something less contaminating) on the wall of D Ward so that you could see their transformations. Daily I am reminded of the parade of miracles we get to witness, which makes the occasional hard times worth it. Here are a few that stood out for me...

     If I'm honest, I've had a couple favorite gals :) One of them I shall call Toulie, a girl no older than myself admitted with a large jaw tumor. I had the privilege of caring for Toulie after her hemi-mandibulectomy. This is a procedure that involves removing half of one's jawbone, as well as the teeth connected to that bone. Since the mouth has suddenly been turned into a raw battlefield of healing, a Naso-gastric tube is required for nutrition over the first week of recovery. There is also a drain out the bottom of your jaw, a large incision down the front of the chin and an enormous gauze head wrap involved. This is your typical hemi-mand, and this was Toulie's case. 

     But what stood out about her is that from post-op Day One, she greeted me with a grin. And every day after. If it weren't for the gauze, suture lines and multiple tubes inserted in her, you wouldn't have been able to tell she had just had extensive facial surgery. She never so much as grimaced, let alone shed a tear over the pain she likely felt. By the middle of the month, she no longer had a drain or NG tube and was eating soft foods, so she was cleared to discharge to the Hope Center! On her final day, I got to teach her to apply her pressure dressing, holding the mirror while she practiced putting it on and taking it off. She hugged me and left with a grin on her face. And when I visited her at the Hope Center the next week, she greeted me with an even bigger smile.

     Another endearing couple of gals were Grandma H and Binta, her teenage granddaughter who stayed as her caregiver and translator. Sometimes we don't have Pular-speaking day workers, so generally my words would be translated to French for the granddaughter and then she would translate into Pular for her grandmother. It was this game of telephone that my patient assessment info and teaching had to go through. The first day I took care of Grandma H, both she and Binta were kind but quiet, just smiling and staying to themselves.

     By the next day, they were suddenly my buddies! Anytime I came to talk with Grandma H, she wrapped my hand warmly in hers. And Binta turned out to be quite the teenage linguist. She showed me her coloring book, which was actually functioning as a notebook; it was full of words and phrases she'd been collecting. With her small English she began animatedly explaining them to me, writing out new words for me in French and Pular. She asked about my family, so I pulled up Facebook on our ward computer and showed her my mom, dad and sister, whom she said were all "so beautiful". It was such an epiphany moment, like this unseen gap was bridged - I became a girl just like her, with a family that I too loved. 

     This next young woman completely stole our hearts! I will call her 'B', and she took over our ward like a storm. 'B' had a large intra-oral tumor removed, which required her to have a tracheostomy in order to breathe and receive nutrition via a nasogastric feeding tube for several days. But though the trach made her speechless, you could literally hear her through her body language. And she was hilarious! At any opportunity, she was literally up and dancing, tubes and all. The joy and life that she radiated were absolutely contagious! (I'll tell you more about her in my next post, she's amazing)

     I'd like to finish with one of the most well known and prayed for patients on the ward. Here he will go by 'T', and he spent over a month with us. He is one of the faces I vividly remember from Screening Day. Even then, before I knew anything about him, his gaze wrung my heart. He sat there with a handkerchief draped around his head, partially concealing the enormous tumor that had taken over the right side of his face. What you cannot see is how the tumor has stretched his lip and emerged through his mouth, hanging about five inches below where his chin would be. 

     Anyway, 'T' came to us in October for pre-op care. He was extremely malnourished, only able to consume liquids plunged into his throat via syringe. From the beginning our surgeon explained to him the very risky road ahead. Before he could even have surgery, he would need to get stronger. So a gastric feeding tube would be placed to his stomach in order to give him appropriate nutrition. And because his airway might very soon be compromised, he would need a trach inserted in his neck.

     Long story short, T accepted the odds and lived on the wards for three weeks before any incision was made. As he began to build his strength, his tumor began to grow exponentially, now receiving all the nutrition it had been lacking. But he pressed on. And when the day for surgery came, we all prayed, day and night. The waiting was tense, as though everyone was holding their breath. This was the first time I questioned whether a patient would make it or not...

     But he DID come through, in the most remarkable way. Not only did the surgeon remove all of the tumor, but he was able to save T's right eye. 'T' spent one night in the ICU and the next day was on the ward again, back in his old spot. It was as though God took all of our worry and fret and just turned it on its head, saying 'See? I told you I had this.' Soon his trach was out, and shortly after that he began to use his new mouth to eat. Last week he was cleared to go to the Hope Center, this man that I thought would surely be in the hospital through Christmas. His recovery is unprecedented. The only word I can think to describe it is miraculous.

Holding on with Open Hands

     As we near winter (or at least what would be winter if we were in the Northern Hemisphere), I am becoming more and more aware of the passing of time. When Patrick and I first arrived in Guinea it was August, and the holiday season felt like a lifetime away. There was so much to adjust to and so much to learn. It was overwhelming enough looking ahead to the next day, let alone four months! So it is difficult to come to grips with the fact that November is nearly gone and our departure is three weeks away.

     There are so many memories, so many things that I want to carry with me. If I whittle it down, the thing that is so hard is the inevitability of letting go. As if we haven't said goodbye enough this year, we will soon be saying goodbye to our friends, our patients, and this way of life. Yes, it has only been a couple of months, but being on this ship, living and working in such close quarters with everyone, has knit us together in ways that I never anticipated. These people are like my second family, and I ache to think that when we leave it will never be like this again.

     This morning a few of us gathered for a post-Thanksgiving day brunch. We went around the table sharing what we were grateful for. It was lovely. One friend's response stuck out to me in particular. She said that she was thankful for her time on this ship, and the gift it has been to know each of us. Because God brings people, relationships, into and out of our lives just when we need them - not ours to keep, but gifts to be held with open hands. So this entry is for them, the friends both here and already gone; gifts that God has placed in my life for this season. For them I am so thankful, and because of them I am forever changed...

Hannah - Always there with a listening ear or much-needed hug.
Love this girl like a sister :)

Jen - Our soft spoken Italian with a heart the size of this ship

Noemie - A gal who took true joy from friendship

Andrea - Refreshingly real, genuinely joyful

Michelle and Rachel... enough said

Maura - Wears love for her patients on her sleeve!

Beth - So genuinely reflects the heart of God

Jasmin - I'd claim this Aussie for America if she'd let me ;)

Ann - Loves like she means it and has a laugh that can fill a room!

Maria - So easy going, with a contagious sense of adventure!

 The 'Other' Emily - Absolutely radiant in every way

Becky - The warmest smile and most tender spirit